Christmas Eve

 Christmas cheer at this time of year

As those we love gather far and near.

Festive songs and blinking lights;

cooking, baking, long into the nights;

Little folks stare with big-eyed wonder

At piles of gifts and the tree they're under.

Hurry, the lists must keep pace with the days.

One more now is left, so the calender says.

As I rush with the vacuum and mop in my grip,

I stop in an instant with a smile on my lip.

 

Peaceful, quiet, lost in his snores:

His slumber makes me giggle,

a funny pause from my chores.

Then I get up from the picture I stooped to snap.

Now back to the tasks, I'll leave him to his nap.

Happy Christmas Eve, everyone!!!

Linking up to:

Funky Junk Interiors.blogspot.com

The Quest for Right Pieces.

The quest for quickness in a puzzle race
May present a quandary to us of slow pace.

 But Grandmom's who are quick and quite adept
Can be equal opponents,
able to keep in step.

 Questioning, quaking,
Violet's unwilling to quit;

 The quiet table boasts a quantity
of queer pieces to fit.

I quote a truth of this quarter-hour's quest:

There's no quibble that time spent together
is, for these Queens, what is best.

Jenny Matlock: Alphabe-Thursdays

the Letter: Q

When the Spider Bit my Hand

This is the mulch pile that,

as my Farmer said,

 

 "Needs to get used; 

the grass beneath it is dead!"

 This is the flower bed

where mulch was in need...

 to blanket the enlarged garden

and squelch out the weed.

This is the glove for my gardening work:

the garden and mulch pile,

I no longer could shirk.

This is the place where the spider's web was

unbeknownst to myself

he took up house in his fuzz.

This month old scar is what's left

from stinging pangs:

thinking mulch stuck my wrist

when I saw twas not, but his fangs.

Here grows the plantain that was picked and minced

then placed with a hot tea bag while in pain I winced.

This is the mailbox where the ER bill will come;...

but the plantain had removed the poison,

swelling gone,

problem done.

So if you are a'gardening and you come upon a fiend,

 remember good friend Plantain,

he's the best Dr. for your need.

Linking up to these great parties:

Exuberance in A Day of Dirt.

 A weary cold winter

was ushered away

as

 Sunshine filtered in

on a bright winsome day.

 Like songs on a breeze 

we flew forth out the door;

the world wore its earth smells;

a full day in store.

Each to our own

we set out to our tasks:

every child held his bucket,

a shovel in my grasp.

 My gardens begged for order

after winter's cracking cold, 

the bricks needed new placement,

a fresh sheet did unfold.

 "Hello, red-headed peonies!

What a welcome sight you are;

 and you also, Lady Daylily.

You are the summer's bold-faced star."

Little voices mingle

with sky-diving birds' laughter.

Searching fingers knife my work

for earthworms they are after.

 Imprisoned in a flower pot,

a sweeter jail I do not know:

 Ease of escape in bottom holes beckon

while big trucks stand at the go.

 The highway of bustle in the fresh air ceases

as lunch time is now far past;

hunger will wait only, oh, so long.

Fun cannot last on a fast.

All participants have been busy,

the evidence is on each shirt.

The gardens have begun their renewal;

yawning roots stretch idly

under the dirt.

Linked to: 

A Southern daydreamer: Outdoor-Wednesday

"Ode to my Girth"

"Ode to my Girth"

I suffer from a question

That stumps my muddled brain.

It's a matter of the girth size

After that child-birthy pain.

When maternal journeys started,

And my gut began its growth

I was excused my sudden largeness

"You're all baby," they did quoth.

But once the babe had exited

It's cellulitish home,

I began to seize this matter

Of my empty belly dome.

Sit-ups were followed by starvings;

Extreme, but to little avail.

"Why is this so daunting?"

Became my dressing room wail.

My life is far from slothy.

After all it does seem clear to me:

I burn more energy than ever!

Step inside my life and see.

My floors are riddled with toys.

They breed like rabbits and mice.

The dirt and slobber of children

Add something to life, is it "spice"?

Bending o'er the whole day through,

You'd think I'd have no middle:

See-through, nothing but a backbone;

but nope! Hear that "sorry-for-me" fiddle?

Three flights of stairs in my house

I travel them as if doing laps.

Am I ready for the Olympics?

As a Sumo wrestler, perhaps.

In situations of dire need

I squeeze into my girdle, the foe,

Trying to breathe and move without bending,

And a sneeze will lose me a toe.

My breakfast gets eaten by baby.

Lunch avoids me til three.

Supper is spent fetching tidbits

Whilst everyone is eating for me.

As a child I ate without reason

Yet a stick on a tree was my shape.

Now I avoid or limit while I'm running

no stick-shape now, but a stump (or grape).

So curses to thee, ye fatness.

Thine unrelenting power I'll fight;

But you won't get me down in the dumpsies

When the young 'uns need a mom who is right.

After all what's a hug without softness?

Every cupcake demands a good cook.

A warm mom chases nightmares completely

And her well-cushioned lap for a book.

I will conquer this problem someday...

It has compounded with each new birth.

But the joy of my three little people,

I know it's of far greater worth.

Someday the house will stay clean

And fit, perhaps SKINNY I'll be;

But I know that it won't really matter so much:

It'll be the grand kids that I'll want to see.

Linked up to:
Kellys Korner Blog

Parenting Tip: While it is important to look and feel good about oneself,

there are times when we won't.

Cut yourself some slack

and then get those goals underway

and be happy with each little step.